


Tendered Submission

by fardareismai2



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Forced Feminization, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fardareismai2/pseuds/fardareismai2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and short chapters as Master and pet start, and navigate, their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever BDSM story. I don't claim to be an expert, but I like to think that I ask questions and get informed. That said, please forgive any poetic license. This isn't meant to be a how-to. 
> 
> Big thanks to my PF Zigster (who was WAY out of her comfort zone with this) and rmhale for doing the beta work. Any mistakes still here are all mine. And another big thanks to naelany for her help with the title.
> 
> This story isn't meant to be a plotted out multi-chapter. I originally wrote it based on prompts from a random word generator, and then took my boys out a couple of times to play with them again. Who knows what the future will hold.

Wedded

"That's it. Take it all. Take it . . . take it . . ." I pull back before he chokes, not moved by the tears on his pale face. Leaning down, I whisper in his ear, "You will learn to suck my cock properly, and you will have no release until you do. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes, Sir," he stutters out, tears shining in his green eyes.

"Now open."

Sliding back into the wet warmth of his mouth, I coax him to take the entire length, training him to relax his throat and let me slide past his gag reflex. I don't often take on such inexperienced subs, particularly ones who've never been with a man, but this one is special. Not only is he unaccountably beautiful, with his sea green eyes and full, red lips—lips made for sucking cock—but his entire demeanor just begs for domination.

He gags once more, so I pull out again, letting my disappointment shine through. I push him over the ottoman and say, "Perhaps you need more incentive. Grab the legs with your hands. You will count out loud, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

I let my hand fly against the smooth, white skin of his ass.

"ONE!" he shouts out.

By the time he reaches twenty, the tears are streaming down his face again. His ass is a beautiful shade of red, and I can't wait until I can fill it with my cock, but he isn't ready for that yet.

I cup his tear stained face in both my hands, using my thumbs to brush away the moisture. "There, there pet, you took that very well." I pour a little water into his mouth from a bottle. "Are you ready to try again?"

He nods and opens his mouth.

"Good boy." By the time I'm done with him, pleasure and pain will be inseparable to him, wedded together by force.

Attain

Every last drop. He swallows it all. Two months later and he is the picture of perfect male obedience, beautiful in his submission, in his desire to serve me. His lips are swollen and his skin flushed; his cock juts out proudly, nearly purple from his excitement and my denial of his release.

"On the table," I order, and he scrambles to obey.

By the time I'm done restraining him, he's spread open for me—a gift, an offering.

The tails of the flogger trail over his skin, and soon he's panting, his skin is pink, and he's so fucking beautiful it takes my breath away.

"It's time," I say.

His eyes widen, and I see him tremble slightly before he says, "If it pleases you, Sir."

Fucking perfect.

I prepare him carefully, cherishing him and what he is giving me. Moving into him slowly, I watch his face for any sign of pain or discomfort. I feel him tense and whisper, "Relax," and he does, and soon I'm sheathed in his tight heat. I look down on his face and . . . and . . . I've never . . . it's never . . . never like this . . . this moment . . . a singular, perfect moment . . . and I . . . I've attained rapture.

I'm terrified.

Although he's the one restrained and impaled, he is in complete control, of the moment, of the scene . . . of me.

My eyes lock with his and I begin to move, each slow slide sucks me even deeper. That's when I know I'm lost. But I've promised him . . . promised him almost everything, so with a deep breath I resume control and with my hands on his hips I begin a steady rhythm that brings him over the edge with a hoarse, expletive laden cry. A moment later I'm tumbling headlong over the cliff too, only I'm not sure if someone is going to catch me.

Creation

"Master," I say in greeting, because although I am a Dom in my own right, he will always be my Master.

He returns my greeting with a hug and a kiss before looking down at my pet. "Who do we have here?" I know he knows Fifi's real name; we've discussed him extensively, but this is part of the scene and we all have our parts to play.

"This is Fifi," I say with a tug on the leash. "Fifi, this is Sir. Now greet Sir properly."

My creation crawls forward and kisses my master's feet before looking up; the rhinestone dog collar on his throat glints in the light, and the mascara on his lashes emphasizes his beautiful eyes, while the gloss on his lips plays up his pout, making his mouth even more fuckable. He waits for my master's permission before he unzips his pants and takes him into his mouth.

"Fifi?" Master asks.

I grin. "My pet here is such a little cockslut, he makes me think of a bitch in heat. I think Fifi is fitting for the little bitch. Don't you agree, Fifi?"

His mouth filled with my master's cock, he can only moan his agreement.

Master grins back at me. "A cockslut you say?" He grips the bronze colored hair tightly in his hands and stills Fifi's movements. He pulls his cock out from between those perfect lips and lets it slide back and forth across my pet's wet, desperate mouth. "You want this, Fifi?"

The response is practically a moan, "Yes, Sir."

"Beg for it."

And he does, debasing himself for a taste of the beautiful cock in front of his face, which Master generously gives him, even allowing him the privilege of swallowing his come.

I watch a scene between Fifi and Master's newest pet, a striking, russet skinned beauty, with long black hair and a huge cock. They are suspended together in sixty-nine, arms bound behind them, cocks buried in each other's mouths, while Master works them over with a flogger.

Master's back and arms flex and move with stunning grace, his skin glowing from the sheen of sweat on his body. He is beautiful. I absently palm my hard cock through my leathers, and for a moment I honestly can't decide whether I want to bury my cock in Fifi, or bend over for my Master again.

In the end, Fifi is on all fours, with my cock buried in his ass, while my master fucks his face.

"Such a fucking good mouth," he says. His pet is lying on his back under Fifi, restrained, gagged and in a cock cage, able to do nothing but watch as Master is pleasured by another. "If you had behaved pet, I may have allowed _you_ the pleasure of coming in this perfect mouth." I look down and see the tears sliding out of the boy's eyes, his shame at displeasing his master evident on his face.

I run my hand over Fifi's back, "You've been so good today, pet. I love fucking you like this, like the little bitch you are. You like that don't you Fifi?"

He moans around Master's cock and pushes back against me. I slap his ass and slam in harder, angling my hips so that I start hitting his prostate with every stroke. He's straining now with the effort of holding back his orgasm.

"You filthy little slut. Look at you with a cock up your ass and in your mouth, begging for more." He moans again and his whimpers take on a desperate quality. I can feel my own balls tighten with need. "Go on then bitch, show Sir just how much you love being filled by our cocks. Come for us." And he does, his come spraying all over Master's pet; a hot, wet testament to the boy's failure, and exquisite proof of Fifi's pleasure.

"Oh yeah," Master groans as he fills Fifi's mouth. A few strokes later, he's pulling out and I grab Fifi's hair, arching him back as I thrust harder. I pull his head back farther and whisper into his ear, "I'm going to fill your tight ass." He whimpers with pleasure, and I reach down to find him getting hard for me again. "Oh yes. Bitch. In. Heat."

Two more strokes and I'm coming, buried deep inside him, and for an instant my mask slips and I almost call out his name, biting my tongue at the last moment.

I look up to find Master staring at me with a knowing look on his face.

Kaleidoscope

It is a short session. Part of me didn't want to have one, but it isn't about me. At the end of the day it's about his wants, and this is what he desires. It is my job to care for him, to provide him with what he needs.

So I take care of him, giving him just the right amount of pain, granting him release, but I don't take him, and I don't find my own gratification.

After, as I stand near the stained glass window looking at him—the light throwing colors over his skin, moving and dancing like a kaleidoscope—I think that I have to let him go. This isn't what he signed up for.

It isn't what I signed up for.

He stretches, cat like, and I watch as his muscles contract and release, his smooth skin glistening with the sweat of his earlier exertion. He is breathtaking. I turn away and look out the window, the shapes outside blurred and indistinct through the reds, greens, and blues, the wavy glass distorting the trees and houses.

I feel him behind me. "Have I displeased you?" he asks. His breath a whisper across my neck, the heat of his body burns me although we aren't touching.

"No," I tell him.

"Then . . ." he trails off. "You didn't . . ." he takes a breath, "you didn't finish. Do you not want me anymore?" the sadness in his voice tears at me.

I turn to him. His eyes are downcast, his body is trembling, and I can't help myself. I reach out and cup his face, tilting it up, forcing him to look at me. "Of course I want you," I reassure him. _How could I not?_

"Then why? What's wrong?" he asks desperately, as though he too senses the end approaching.

I turn away. I can't. I can't do this.

"Don't turn away from me," he demands.

I don't respond.

"Don't ignore me!" his hands push against my back, searing my skin.

I spin around to tell him to leave, to get the fuck out. But then I look at him; his skin is flushed, his eyes are flashing, a cascade of emotion pouring out of them: anger, hurt, desire, and something else . . . and his chest is heaving. For some reason I fixate on the way it makes the light bounce off the piercings; they're glinting and blinking.

He's in my face, "What is it?" he shouts at me. "Why are you doing this?"

Then my hands are in his hair and my mouth is on his, and it's a hard, bruising kiss that doesn't stop until I need to breathe. And _fuck_ , what is he _doing_ to me? One of my hands slides down his back and lands on his ass as my mouth takes his again, and I push against him, grinding my hard cock into his hip.

I walk him back to the padded table in the center of the room until his ass hits the edge. Reaching down between us, I grasp and stroke him, feeling him harden in my hand. Pulling back, I start to unbutton the front of my leathers. "Is this what you want?" I ask him.

I'm praying that he says yes, desperate to be inside him.

I'm praying that he says no, terrified to lose myself there.

He swallows, and I watch as his throat constricts and opens, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

I pull out my achingly hard dick and stroke it, watching him watch me. It's a heady feeling to see that naked desire. Pushing on his chest so he is lying on his back, I leave his legs dangling over the edge of the table. I grab the lube from the basket on the floor and coat myself with it, before applying more to his ass.

I growl at him, "Is this what you want?"

He moans and wraps his legs around my waist. It's all the invitation I need and I push into him, both of us groaning at the sensation. I slide all the way in and begin to fuck him. It's desperate and needy, and my hands are all over him, and I slide my thumb into his mouth, the rest of my hand cupping his face, hissing as he bites and sucks at it.

"Fuck, Edward!" I call out, and then I freeze.

He freezes.

My self-restraint is gone.

I know it.

He knows it.

And I'm lost.

I'm pulling back, sliding to my knees on the floor. What have I done? But he's sliding down after me, straddling my thighs.

"Shhhh," he whispers, and he wipes away the tears I didn't know were falling, and kisses my mouth softly. "It's alright," he murmurs. "It's alright."

Now he's pushing _my_ chest, and I'm lying down, my back against the hard, wood floor. My arm covers my face. I've lost all semblance of control and I can't look at him. I can't stand to see the disappointment in his face.

But then his fingers wrap around my wrist, tugging it down. "Look at me," he says. My eyes are still scrunched shut, so he repeats it, and I can't deny him anything, so I do.

He's looking at me with such tenderness and then he's sinking down onto me, and . . . and . . . oh god! His thumb brushes across my cheek and he cups my face. He lifts up and sinks back down, beginning a slow rhythm. His eyes don't leave mine.

Now we're not Dom and sub, Master and pet. We're just us. Just me and Edward, at this moment, and it's perfect.

My hands find his hips and we move together, give and take. He leans down and kisses me again, and I wrap my arms around him and pull him tight to me, chest to chest, mouth to mouth. With my feet planted firmly on the floor, I thrust up into him gently, over and over, until we're both teetering on the edge, and I realize that I'm no longer fucking him. I'm making love to him, and the realization sends a current through my body.

With a muffled cry I begin to pulse inside him, his name streaming from my lips like a prayer.

Then I hear it, a hoarse cry, "Carlisle!" And I feel wet warmth on my stomach and the clench of his ass as he comes.

I hold his face in my hand. "Say it again," I say.

He smiles. "Carlisle," he says. "Carlisle. Carlisle. Carlisle," he repeats, punctuating each word with a kiss.

He stops and looks at me. "I love you."

My heart stops, and for several long seconds I can't feel anything, but I can hear the rushing of my blood in my ears, drowning out everything else. Then with a lurch my heart begins to beat again. A staccato rhythm matching his name—Edward, Edward, Edward—and I know we're going to be okay.

"I love you too," I tell him. I kiss him deeply, rolling him over onto his back and running my hands over his body again. "I love you," I say again. I slide my hand down squeezing his firm flesh and whisper against his mouth, "but I'm still going to paddle this gorgeous ass."

He laughs and with a cheeky smile threatens, "If you don't, I'm going to call Master Garrett."

I chuckle. Then I lift his leg, and make love to him again.

The paddle can wait until tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit up the random word generator again. This time it was "treatment." Epic thanks to chicklette and rmhaleff for their beta brains. They made it readable. Any mistakes are all mine.

Treatment

I am needy today.

We are still navigating our way around this burgeoning relationship, trying to balance Edward and Carlisle, with Master and pet. It isn't always easy, and some days I find myself needing to assert my authority—my control—even more.

This is one of those days.

He is tightly bound to the beam. The ropes and knots making an intricate pattern over his flushed skin. The gag in his mouth stretches his lips wide, and a thin trickle of saliva dribbles out the side. His hair is sweat slicked from exertion, and I can see him trying to stretch his muscles without really moving, trying to ease the strain.

His cock juts out proudly; it is thick and engorged, nearly purple with need. The shiny metal of his cockring glints in the light, flickering with each bob and twitch. Patches of pink and red appear all over his exposed flesh; perfectly rendered images of my crop.

_Slap. Slap. Slap._

He moans as I strike the inside of his thigh. Another as I inch up. A higher pitched whine escapes as I tap his balls, followed by a guttural groan when I wrap my lips around the head of his cock and suck. I release him from my mouth and stand.

He is so fucking beautiful it takes my breath away.

_Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap._

I continue to leave my mark all over the front of him. My mark, I think and I growl internally. He is writhing and moaning, but I know he is okay with my treatment. He knows how to signal an end to the scene if he needs it, but the bell ball is still clutched tightly in his hand.

I stop and put the crop down. He is breathing hard around the gag, working through the stings that my crop left behind. His cock is still rigid, painfully so by the look of it, and a steady stream of precum drips from the tip.

Beautiful.

I undo the gag and wipe his face with a towel as he moves his jaw around, stretching and relaxing. I take the bell from him and set it aside, then pour water into his mouth and watch as he swallows—his Adam's apple moving up and down as his throat opens and closes. A stray drop escapes his lips and I lean forward and lick it off his chin.

He stretches toward me, wanting a kiss, but I back away.

I'm not done yet, and I smirk at the whimper that escapes him.

"Good boy," I tell him, and reach down to stroke him a few times. I enjoy the sharp intake of breath, the tension in his body as he struggles to control himself, to contain his orgasm before it overtakes him.

A small part of me, the sadistic part, wants to push him, to make him lose control and come without permission, but I'm not in the mood to punish, and I'm not in the mood for him to be sated yet. I want to push him to the edge and keep him there for as long as possible.

I don't kid myself that this is a lesson in control for him, or a barrier he needs to push past. This is for me, because this is who and what I am. And because he is who and what he is, he gives me this gift. He entrusts himself to me, knowing that while I take pleasure in my dominance of him, I will ensure his physical and emotional safety, and gratification.

I untie him, rubbing each limb as I release it, making certain that he is unharmed. When I am satisfied that he is well, I put him to his knees.

"Suck it," I tell him.

And he does. His velvet tongue wraps around my rigid length and strokes it up and down before his cheeks hollow out as he sucks, his lips wet and slick against the skin of my cock. He's gotten so good at this, so good at knowing just what I like, and when I thrust my hips forward, he swallows around me and takes my length easily.

I tangle my fingers in his unruly hair. "Yes," I hiss. "That's it." I begin to thrust into his willing mouth, fucking his face, controlling the pace, the depth—controlling him. He is mine to do with as I please, so I do.

"Gonna come, pet." And I push deeper into his hot mouth, hitting the back of his throat when I come. I hold him close, his nose in the curls at the base of my cock, as I feel him swallow around me.

God, I love him.

I pull him to his feet and kiss him, tasting us along his tongue and teeth. I fist my hand in his hair and hold him still as I plunder his mouth, and he is compliant and malleable under my hands and lips. Willing and open, all mine.

I break away from his kisses and tell him to get on the bench. He bends, and carefully situates the bar at his midsection and places his arms and legs on the padded rests. I strap him to the bench, ensuring that he can't move.

I stand behind him and run a hand down his back, over his backside, trailing a finger in the crack of his ass, and teasing the soft skin behind his balls, lightly stroking his cock, which hasn't softened at all. He's moaning quietly and I lean over and kiss his back between his shoulder blades.

"I'm going to fuck you, pet."

"Please," he begs.

"But first I'm going to turn your ass a nice shade of red," I say as I rub my palm along the soft skin. Before he can respond, I let fly a nice smack against his cheek. He tries to flinch forward, but he can't move.

These are not punishing strokes. They are for pleasure, his and mine. I continue the spanking, enjoying first the appearance of my handprint on his white skin, and then the pinking of his entire ass. In between slaps, I pause to rub and squeeze, eliciting the most gorgeous sounds from my boy.

As I rub, I reach over with the other hand and dip two fingers in the pot of lube on the nearby table, then swirl them around his entrance.

"Oh god," he whimpers.

I push them in and fuck him slowly with just those two digits. His moans of pleasure are wonderful, and when I crook my fingers just so, the guttural sound I drag out of him is intoxicating.

I pull my fingers out and begin spanking him again, the moisture from the lube adding a little more snap to it. His ass is now bright red, and again I pause to rub and squeeze, and then fuck him some more with my fingers.

"Oh god, so good," he mutters.

"You like that, pet?"

"Yes, yes," he moans.

I twist my fingers, eager to hear his cries. "Like that?"

"Please . . ."

"Please what, pet?"

"Please, Master, please, need to come, need you, need you . . . fuuuuck," he draws out as I give a particularly insistent stroke.

"Not yet, pet. You haven't begged me hard enough."

And I return to spanking him, until his skin is hot to the touch and a deep, deep red. When I squeeze the firm flesh of his ass he is crying, begging and pleading with me to fuck him, to let him come. I torment him with my fingers some more.

"You want to come, pet?" I push my fingers in deep, and with my other hand I stroke his cock.

Babbling, nearly incoherent cries of _yes_ and _fuck_ , _please_ and _god_ , stream forth from my boy's mouth and I slick up my cock and place it at his entrance. I tease the hole with the tip, drawing out another outpouring of pleas.

I love having him like this. I love knowing that I bring him to this point. I love that he is mine to do this to, and I love that he allows it.

"Then come for me, pet," I tell him, and push into him in one slow, steady thrust.

His orgasm hits just as my hips go flush with his, and he squeezes tight around me. He screams his pleasure, long and loud. I pull back and press in again, continuing to fuck him through his orgasm, enhancing and prolonging it.

I've done this to him.

Me.

I grip his hips hard and begin to fuck him in earnest, enjoying the tight heat. I can feel him tremble beneath me. My boy. My beautiful, Edward.

Mine.

"Mine," I growl as I slam into him.

"Yes, yours," he tells me.

"Only mine."

"Yours, only yours," he cries. "Always yours."

His words take me over the edge and I come, pulsing deep inside him, marking him inside as I have outside.

When I've recovered myself, I pull out and release him. I clean him up and gather him to me, cradling him in my arms as we lie on the floor. I brush his sweaty hair off his forehead, and pepper his face with kisses.

"You did so well, pet. I'm so proud of you."

"Love you," he mumbles. His heart is racing and he is twitchy, as his body comes down off the adrenalin rush.

I grab a blanket that is stashed nearby and cover him, keeping him warm. I remind him to relax, and continue to talk softly to him. After a little while he finally starts to ride his endorphin high and I can feel him become soft and pliable in my arms.

I carry him to our room, our bed, and lay him down. I should go back to the playroom and clean up, but I'm enjoying the moment too much. I'm riding my own high and I want to be with Edward, my lover, now.

I stretch out next to him on the bed and he turns to put his head on my chest, his arm and a leg sling across me. I sigh, content, fulfilled, complete.

I press a kiss to his temple. "Are we still having lunch with your parents tomorrow?"

He nods, his hair tickling my chin. "Can we please not talk about my parents right now?"

I laugh. "Okay, baby. What would you rather talk about?"

"How much you love me," he says as he cuddles in closer.

I smile and bury my face in his hair. "So much, Edward. So very much."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, for those needing visual aids, this is the bench: http://tinyurl.com/38aaqag


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a sudden urge to play with these two again. This is what came out of that. My undying love and thanks to Chicklette, rmhaleff, and fiberkitty for their beta brains, help, advice and support. Seriously ladies, thank you so very much.
> 
> As always, I don't own them, I just make them do dirty things.

Edward is a wreck.

He hasn't stopped fidgeting or pulling at the collar of his shirt, while bouncing his leg up and down under the table. I place my hand on his knee and give it a gentle squeeze, hoping to reassure him with my presence. Edward's leg stops bouncing, but he begins to play with the ring on his finger, twisting it over and over and over.

"Edward, calm down."

"I can't," he whispers. "What if they hate me?"

"They won't. No one hates you."

"But what if they do?"

They are Edward's paternal grandparents: Anthony and Elise Masen. Edward was able to find the identities of his birth parents, but his mother didn't want any contact. His father, Edward Masen Sr., was deceased but his parents were still alive, and we're at a restaurant waiting to meet them for the first time.

We are also a good twenty minutes early because of Edward's nerves.

An earlier round in our playroom did nothing to alleviate his anxiety. It seems short of keeping Edward within subspace, something I didn't want to do while here, I'm stuck with his incessant fidgeting.

_With his hands bound behind his back, I pull him down over my knees. He flails at first, as he always does. This position is one that makes him feel very vulnerable, and I know he much prefers to be able to place his hands on the floor in front of him for balance. But right now, I need him to trust me and my judgment, to relax at my touch, to find his headspace and maintain it for later, and to rely on me to meet his needs._

_I wait while he settles himself across my legs, and I keep a comforting hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing circles over the soft skin. When he finally stills, I run my other hand up his thighs and over the swell of his ass, enjoying the feel of his muscles as they twitch in response. His cock grows hard against my leg, and I know my jeans will have a telltale wet spot by the time I'm through with him._

_This isn't about getting off, not for me. This is about what Edward needs, and it is my responsibility to see that he gets it, that he obtains a sense of calm and tranquility._

_I tell him to count out loud, and begin to spank him. Although this is about him, I can't deny how much I enjoy the feel of his soft skin, or the sound the palm of my hand makes with each smack. I love watching his skin whiten and then pink in response, heating under my ministrations. The way his muscles clench, then relax with each stroke is beautiful, and his breathy sounds are intoxicating._

_On the eighth stroke I ask him, "Who are you?"_

_After he counts, he says his name._

_On the ninth I ask him, "Who do you belong to?"_

_After he counts, he says that he is mine._

_On the tenth, I begin to repeat the questions._

_By the sixteenth stroke he is relaxed and pliable against me, his voice practically humming as he says, "I'm yours, Master. Always yours."_

_"That's right, pet. You're mine, and I take care of what's mine," I remind him as I run a soothing hand over his ass. The skin is warm to the touch and bright pink. I balance him with one hand and reach beside me with the other, grabbing a bottle of lube and thick plug._

_Preparing him quickly with my fingers, I tell him, "This is to remind you who you belong to, to remind you that I will always take care of you." And then I begin to press the plug into him. I twist and press, giving it a few short thrusts and making Edward moan before I seat it fully inside him. I love watching the way his body accepts it, hearing his whimpers, and I chuckle as he unconsciously begins to hump my leg a little._

_I give his bottom another quick slap, more teasing than anything else and then tap the base of the plug. "Patience, pet. That'll come later." I uncuff his hands and help him to his feet. "Now go shower and get ready."_

And it all seemed to work, until we got to the restaurant. Despite my earlier efforts, he's a mess and it's my responsibility to bring him down before his grandparents get here. He needs to be at his best, something I can help him with.

Leaning over, I use the voice usually reserved for our playroom and tell him, "Get up and go to the bathroom. Now."

Edward turns and stares at me, wide eyed, before he audibly swallows and scoots out of his seat. A minute later I follow him.

When I enter the bathroom he's standing there, eyes looking down, hands behind his back, but I can still see the tension and nervousness in every line of his body.

He needs this.

I do a quick scan of the bathroom, and when I see that it's otherwise empty, I push him into the larger, handicap stall. Clicking the latch shut I tell him, "On your knees."

Edward looks at the floor, as if assessing how dirty it may be, then back up at me.

"Unless you want me to stripe your ass hard enough to keep you from sitting for a week, don't make me repeat myself."

Edward drops to his knees in an instant. The memory of the last time he earned such a harsh punishment still stings. It wasn't pleasant for either of us, but it had been necessary at the time.

I unbutton and unzip my pants and pull my cock out. It's already half hard from seeing Edward on his knees. A potent reminder of the power he wields over me. "Open your mouth and keep your hands behind your back."

He opens his mouth and I slide my dick in, all the way to the base and rest there for a moment, allowing it to become fully hard in his mouth, feeling him work to breathe around it, to swallow.

Pulling back a little I say, "Suck me."

Edward moans a bit as he begins to suck. It's a little awkward for him, without his hands and I hold his head, guiding him. Slipping his mouth over my cock, his tongue circles the tip and presses against the length as he swallows me down. I know we don't have much time, so I begin to help him, thrusting gently, fucking his mouth just a little.

The groan he lets out as I start to move is one of abject need. "Like that, pet? You like it when I fuck your face, don't you?"

His muffled whimpers are all the response I need, and I begin to move a little faster. "That's it, pet. Take it. Such a good little cocksucker. So eager to please me, aren't you?"

Edward looks at me and nods, his mouth stretched obscenely over my cock as it slides all spit-slick through his parted lips.

"Gonna come," I warn, and shove myself all the way into his mouth, until I'm buried to the hilt. I come hard, spilling down his throat, feeling him swallow it all around me.

After I pull away, I tuck myself back into my pants. Edward is still on his knees, panting a little.

"Get up," I tell him, and as soon as he's on his feet, spin him around and push him against the tiled wall. With my left hand I grab both his wrists and pin them above his head. My right hand moves down and palms his hard dick through his pants.

"Got hard sucking me off? Slut." Unbuttoning his pants, I pull them down to his thighs. My hand trails up his leg and I squeeze his ass, hard. "Such a pretty little slut. I bet you want me to fuck you now, don't you?"

"Master," he pants.

My fingers trail up the crack of his ass until they find the base of the plug. I grasp it and hear his breathing hitch. Pulling it, then twisting it hard before pushing it back into him, I say, "Is that what you want, you want me to fuck you?"

"Oh, God," he whimpers.

The creak of the door alerts us to the presence of another. I tighten my grip on Edward's wrists as I feel him tense, and my right hand grabs his cock and begins to stroke it. Leaning against his back I whisper, "Want me to fuck you now? Let him hear it?"

Edward's cheek is pressed against the wall, and I can see him bite his lip with the effort to remain quiet. My hand continues stroking him, up and down his shaft, the silky skin becoming slick with precum.

His hips begin to pump as he tries to fuck my fist, so I press against him until my hand is against the wall and he has nowhere to go.

When I'm sure he won't move anymore, I pull back and stroke him again, whispering in his ear, "Do you want to come?"

He nods frantically, and we can hear the other man in the stall next to us.

In the barest of whispers I tell him, "I planned a big scene for tonight. I was going to let you come as many times as you could get it up, but if you come now, I'm only going to let you come once later."

Edward stills for a moment as he thinks about it, then nods.

I grin. He's going to be sorry later, but I know he needs this now.

There is the sound of a zipper being lowered and then of someone peeing. "You want him to hear you come, don't you?" I continue to whisper as I jack him, laughing quietly when he refuses to answer. "Slut. But you're my slut aren't you?"

Edward nods again and looks over his shoulder at me, his eyes full of love and desire and abject need.

There is flush next to us, then the sound of a zipper.

My hand continues to move up and down his cock. Twisting a little at the head and then sliding down, just like he likes it. I feel him tense and know he's on the edge. "Go on then, give it up for me, pet," I command as quietly as possible.

And he does, painting the wall in front of him and coating my hand. His eyes are screwed shut, and if he doesn't stop biting his lip he's going to draw blood. We hear the flow of water at the sink, and Edward sags in my arms.

I kiss his damp neck. "Good boy," I murmur. "Such a good boy."

The door opens, there are footsteps and then it closes, and we're in silence again. I haven't moved away from him yet. I let go of his hands and cup his chin, turning his face toward me and kissing him.

"Love you," I tell him, grounding him, before I pull away and we clean up and set him to rights.

Standing at the sink, we each wash our hands.

"Feeling better?" I ask him.

He smiles at me, and I can see that he's less tense. The lines of his body are almost languid, content and confident.

"Yeah," he replies. "Thank you."

We kiss once more and then make our way back out to the dining room. A few minutes later we're meeting Edward's grandparents, and they're hugging him tight. Lunch is a success. Anthony and Elise are warm and loving, and have no issue with the fact that Edward is gay or with our relationship. We part with promises of future meetings and family dinners; Edward is practically floating as we walk to the exit.

Holding the door open for him as he walks out I tell him, "By the way, Master Garrett and Seth are coming over tonight. Just thought you'd like to know exactly what you gave up."

Edward turns to look at me, surprise and frustration painted all over his expressive face, and he nearly trips over his own two feet. "That's not fair!" he complains.

I raise an eyebrow and he presses his lips into a thin line. A soft chuckle escapes me as I open the car door, and Edward sits down in a huff. Laughing again, I close the door and make my way around to the driver's side. Sliding into my seat I feel my resolve give a little.

"Tell you what, pet. If you're really good, maybe I'll let you earn a few of them back."

His answering smile is worth everything.


End file.
